An Alternate and Improbable History
by Age of Continuity
Summary: High school is hard on normal teens. But being adopted by a dog is not normal. AU, movie never happened, basically the movie with a twist- Penny and Sherman are 13. How does this affect the story? Read to find out. BEING REWRITTEN.
1. The First Day

_"Mr. Peabody, are you sure you're capable of handling all the challenges and responsibilities of a human child?", asked the judge, looking through the adoption forms._

_"With all due respect," nervously chuckled Mr. Peabody, "how hard could it be?"_

_The judge looked at Mr. Peabody, and lowered his glasses in a "Really?" gesture._

Thirteen years later, Mr. Peabody realized he had greatly underestimated the challenges of parenthood. One mistake was choosing to live in a penthouse high above New York City. The view of the city was breathtaking, but the space was quite small. And little boys needed _lots_ of running room. And so, he decided to invent a time machine. Behind a hidden passcode protected door laid a red, futuristic orb that could travel trough the fabric of space and time (and comfortably seat four): the WABAC machine. It was Sherman's birthday present, when he was five. He had hoped it would give his son a chance to learn…and give the dog and his boy a chance to bond.

Sherman became fascinated in history, and was taking after his father quite nicely. To the spectacular grades, the sharp wit, Mr. Peabody had even heard him make a groan-worthy pun about the hydrogen atom. But now Sherman had school to worry about. Susan B. Anthony Private High was waiting, just a day away.

"Mr. Peabody?"

Sherman asked around a mouthful of cereal. Peabody's train of thought went off the rails and over the bridge.

"Yes, Sherman?"

"Is the WABAC fixed yet?"

Just a few days before, they had visited 1178, to the site of the Tower of Piza. The two were climbing to the second level when Sherman knocked over a bucket of water, splashing on the ground and causing the ground to collapse from the weight. The Italians were not pleased. At all.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Sherman. It's fine now."

"Can we go then?"

Sherman asked for trips in the WABAC as birthday and Christmas presents. Mr. Peabody tried his best to set aside time for his son alongside business matters. He was really busy today...but it _was _his last day of summer. He'd call in sick.

"I...suppose there's no harm. Be ready in ten minutes, Sherman." Mr. Peabody jumped out of his chair and walked towards the his room.

Several phone calls later, and Mr. Peabody was ready.

"Where are we going this time, Mr. Peabody?"

"Not where, Sherman, _when._ December 25th, 1776, a desperate time for the Continental Army."

Before they knew it, they were traveling through time, to a cloudy, snowy base camp in Pennsylvania, just off to the side of the Delaware River. Makeshift hospitals in tents were crowded to the maximum. Men were groaning and bleeding. Nurses were going from tent to tent, trying to fix the patients. Of the thousands of men there, less than a thousand were fit for battle. Many were starving and sick. Two soldiers were leaning against the tent, having a conversation.

"Anything to spare?", asked one to the other, trying to beat out drops of water from his flask.

"A case of hypothermia sound good to you?"

Sherman and Mr. Peabody walked around the sight, to one of the main, larger tents. A young man was standing outside of it, looking frantic and nervous.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton."

"Mr. Peabody!"

"You seem tense. What seems to be the problem?"

"It's General Washington, sir. He's depressed and refused all hopes of a peaceful surrender. He's mad!"

"I see."

The two walked inside to see General Washington, moping at his desk, with his papers everywhere.

"It is impossible! We're doomed!"

"General Washington, what are you referring to?"

"It's the British! They've slaughtered my men and destroyed my infantries! All that's left is for the ice to melt and for them to attack us into surrender."

"Sir, the British are so confident of their victory they are feasting and drinking for Christmas. Why don't you cross the river and hit them with a surprise attack?"

"Hm...maybe... Yes! It is brilliant! Victory will be ours!" He ran outside, calling his soldiers to meet, leaving the two inside the tent.

"Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

"I'm confused. General Washington attacked the British by surprise anyway. How do our trips through time even work?"

"I'm afraid even _I _am not sure, Sherman. All I know is I never _break_ time by spoiling too much. I just...push it forward a little."

The two started walking back towards the WABAC.

"You could say, Sherman, that the British's party went out with a bang."

Sherman laughed, then paused for a moment. "I don't get it."

Mr. Peabody smiled. It had become a running joke after Sherman started groaning at the puns.

After returning to the present, Mr. Peabody cooked Sherman's favorite dish(or, one of them anyway) and they both enjoyed it. After eating, Sherman began towards his room.

"Get some rest, Sherman. Your first day of high school is only hours away."

"Goodnight, Mr. Peabody. Love ya."

Mr. Peabody had a lump in his throat. In all these years, he _still _could not bring himself to say the words he so desperately wished he could. And it reminded him that in four short years, Sherman would be…gone. The thought of his beautiful boy being away from him made him choke up inside.

"I have a deep regard for you as well, Sherman."

Tomorrow, for sure, he'd say it. Just like he promised himself yesterday.

* * *

><p>"Now, make sure you arrive on time," said Mr. Peabody, as he was finishing up Sherman's lunch. He placed the baby carrots in a ziplock bag, then thrown in a stereotypical red apple for the teacher, and began making the tuna sandwich. He noticed Sherman pacing the floor, nervously. Mr. Peabody was nervous too, though he hid it.<p>

"Okay, Mr. Peabody," said Sherman, looking through the glass window into Central Park. The sun was rising over the city that never slept. He was wearing the school uniform, a dark blue vest over his plain white shirt, with the school logo pinned on the right of the chest. He yawned, stretched, adjusted his glasses. He was a little nervous, to say the least. He was never really popular in any of his schools, but now he was about to enter high school, basically a popularity contest with report cards. Whatever, he thought. He'd just get the grades and get out ASAP. He remembered the scooter rides they would have to the old schools, where they chatted and Mr. Peabody would give him advice and reminders about anything. They discussed desk organization and pencil thickness and field trips. He missed those days.

"Remember to take a look at the clubs when you get a chance, Sherman." He finished the sandwich with light mayonnaise, and put it in a container.

"I will, Mr. Peabody."

"And don't get lost in the halls," said Mr. Peabody, as he wrapped the lunch in a brown paper bag and put it on the counter. "Here's your lunch."

There was a pause here, as both thought about what to do before they said goodbye and separated. Both drew a blank.

"Love ya, Mr. Peabody."

It was awkwardly squeezed into the conversation, just anything to fill the gap of silence. Right now, just like he promised...

"I...have a deep regard for you as well, Sherman."

The silence returned, expanded, took over the space.

"Alright, Mr. Peabody. Bye!" Sherman grabbed his lunch and ran to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Mr. Peabody growled to himself. God, it was three words! They're not even long ones! Why? Why couldn't he say it to his own son? He _did_ love him...did he? Mr. Peabody smacked himself. Of course he did. He'd prove it to himself. He'd say it, right after school. He promised himself. Again.

* * *

><p>Maybe he did get a little lost. Sherman frantically scrambled through the halls, searching for it, where was it?! <em>"Oh, here it is!", <em>he thought. Sherman had had no time to "check the clubs", as Mr. Peabody reminded him. Screw it, he'd do it later. Room 212. As he walked in, he heard a loud bell reverb across the school. _"Well, at least I'm not tardy!" _He paused to look around the classroom. It looked normal enough, with twenty or so students and a teacher looking well into her forties. There was only one seat left, next to…well (to be brutally honest with himself), a _pretty_ _fantastic _looking blonde girl, wearing the uniform blue shirt with a white skirt, lighter blue socks that went to her knees and a black hairband. He considered himself lucky and took the seat.

"Cutting it close, Mr...", asked the teacher.

"Sherman, please, call me Sherman."

She said nothing.

"Welcome to American History." The teacher sounded cold, distant, and emotionless. "This class is required to achieve your diploma and further a successful life and career.

"Given this is our first day, let's start simple. Who here knows about the Declaration of Independence?"

About half of the class raised their hands.

"When was it signed?"

Sherman, along with three or four others, raised their hands. This was easy.

"Ms. Peterson, or do you prefer Penelope?", asked the teacher with a slight glare at Sherman.

"July 4, 1776. And Penny's fine, m'am."

Sherman was shocked to hear the voice come next to him. And that she was _wrong._

"Anything to add, Sherman?"

"Actually, while the wording of the Declaration was approved on July 4, the document wasn't signed until August 2nd. In fact, on July 4, King George III wrote in his diary that 'nothing important happened today'."

"Wow," said the impressed teacher, "someone knows their history. Wouldn't you say, Penny?"

Penny Peterson, as Sherman now knew her, was red in the face, embarrassed and angry. She held a pencil in her hands and loudly snapped it like a twig.

Sherman gulped.

* * *

><p>Sherman had struggled his way through Algebra and made it to lunchtime. He was sitting alone, as he preferred, biting into his food. He looked around the cafeteria. Faded yellow walls surrounded the students, sitting at pale green tables that were more likely to be at a playground than a high school. Sherman was sitting in the corner closest to the exit, just in case, a strategy that got him out of trouble on more then one occasion.<p>

"So," said Penny, inches from his ear, making him jump and turn around to face her, "whatcha got there, Sherman?" Sherman gulped, forgetting that he had been eating, resulting in a coughing fit.

"Uh, carrots, an apple, and a tuna sandwich."

"Huh, I was expecting something more...traditional."

Huh? It wasn't like he was eating sushi or crap like that.

"Traditional? Like what?"

"Oh, you know...kibbles, bits..."

He heard laughter from Penny's friends (he thought he might have heard the names "Jill" and "Abby", but he couldn't be sure). Penny turned on a heel and smirked while making a slashing motion across her throat. _"Cut it, guys, I'm not done!"_

Sherman let out a joyless laugh.

"Hahahaha..."

Penny raised an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

"Kibbles and bits...that was funny...it _was_. The first eighty-six times."

"E-eighty six?" Her air of confidence was starting to waver.

"Yeah, I keep count, it's a little tic of mine."

"Tic, huh? You should get that removed." She leaned in closer, her confidence back in rare form. "I hear it's hereditary."

Sherman clenched his fist. Unclenched. Breathed. "Clever, aren't you?", he nearly growled.

"I wouldn't know, pup."

"I have a _name, _you know."

"What, Sparky? Rover? Lassie, maybe?"

"Sherman, **Penelope****." **Venom dripped off.

"At least **mine** was given to me by a human, dog-boy."

Sherman stood up, finally pissed off.

"**I _am_ human!"**

"Oh, yeah?"

She grabbed the sandwich out of his hands and threw it across the room. Silence overtook the cafeteria.

"Prove it."

He stood there, asking the unspoken question, "How?"

"Stupid dog. You know how to _fetch_, don't you?" Chuckles rang out across the lunch room. "Fetch, boy! Go on!" Laughter now surrounded Sherman, louder, _louder, _**_louder-_**

Penny shoved him onto the dirty linoleum floor.

"Your master said fetch!" She angrily hissed in his ear, then backed away to chat with her friends. "Ugh, you're useless."

Sherman had had enough of this. **Far** too much of this. He put up with this shit in elementary and middle, but high school? Hell no! He stalked towards her, but failing to notice a puddle of milk, he slipped, sending him landing headfirst. His glasses flew across the room. The laughter wouldn't stop, _it wouldn't stop_, _why wouldn't it stop,_ **_make it stop!_**

"Oh, you wanna be funny now? Let's try a different command," she said, picking him up off the floor and placing him in a chokehold. "Beg!"

His dignity in tatters, he desperately tried to make a sound. God, how he tried, but he couldn't get the air. It came out as a sputtering wheeze. She slammed his bleeding, aching, swelling head against the table.

**"Beg!"**

Things were blurry, even blurrier without his glasses. He was seeing spots. In a desperate attempt to break free, he did the only thing he could.

That's the last thing he remembered.

* * *

><p>He came to in a small puddle of blood. The janitor was mopping it up, but he stopped to help Sherman get back on his feet.<p>

"Y'all right there, kid?"

"Fine," said Sherman, as he started to stumble out.

"Hey, you forgot these!"

Sherman walked back to get his badly bent glasses. He tried to put them on, to have one side be suspended mid-air.

"...Thanks."

"They wantcha in the Principal's Office, by the way."

It figures the most polite person in the school was the janitor.

Sherman walked through the halls, looking for the office. He could barely find his classroom in time, now they expected him to find an office? This whole day was turning out pretty rotten. He searched for the office. Eventually, he found an oak door to the office of Principal Purdy, as it read on the door.

"Real intimidating, I bet."

He opened the door.

"Don't worry, I'll see he's met with. Just sit right there and-"

The principal turned from Penny to see...

"Ah, Mr. Peabody."

"Sherman, please, it's less confusing."

"Very well, Sherman. Come with me, we need photos of your injuries for...insurance purposes."

Penny had an evil smile plastered on her face. Sherman glared back.

"I understand."

* * *

><p>Principal Purdy nervously wrung his hands. He was staring down two of the most influential families in New York City. He tried not to faint.<p>

"Mr. Peabody, Mrs. and Mr. Peterson, thank you for your time. There was an altercation between these two in the lunchroom."

As he said "these two", he gestured to an indifferent Penny and an annoyed Sherman.

"Here are pictures for insurance filing."

Purdy passed two folders to the families, one showed Penny on the verge of fake tears, proudly displaying a bite-mark, the other showing Sherman's bruised, bloody head.

"Oh my," said Mr. Peabody.

"Hm," said Paul.

"Before we move on, I thought we should give the children a chance to explain themselves."

"Excuse me, Mr. Purdy, but why don't you simply pull a witness from the lunchroom? There must be dozens," asked Mr. Peabody.

"If you'd like, Mr. Peabody, I could, but I prefer to trust the students. Honesty is a key principle here."

Penny went first.

"Sherman showed me up during class. I told him it was rude and he started walking towards me, like he was gonna hurt me! He slipped and fell on his head and I tried to help him up, and he bit me!"

Paul looked over to Mr. Peabody, and made a violent slashing motion across his throat. Mr. Peabody gulped.

Next went Sherman.

"She was asked a question. She gave the wrong answer. I gave the right one. She called Mr. Peabody a dog."

"That's it? She's right, Sherman," said Purdy.

"No, not like that. You don't understand."

"Why don't I?"

"It's personal."

Purdy just glanced at Sherman, then moved on.

"Right then. Paul, Patty, Penny, Sherman, you all may leave."

Paul repeated his action, then left with Patty. Penny and Sherman (seperately, of course) then returned to class.

"Mr. Peabody. Due to your, ahem, special circumstances, I called Child Services as legally required."

"I see."

In walked Ms. Grunion, a plump lady who always seemed to be angry over something or another.

"He bit her, Mr. Peabody, for no good reason. I believe this incident will have to raise further questions about your parenting."

"You'll do good to remember that I _won _the right to adopt Sherman in a court of law," said Mr. Peabody, trying to keep his cool.

"And _I_ can take him away," replied Ms. Grunion. "And I will be inspecting your home _very _thoroughly. Clear?"

With this last word, she huffed onto his glasses. His fingers acted as windshield wipers, removing the fog.

"Crystal."

* * *

><p>The walk home was long, as he wanted it to be. Mr. Peabody had always told him about the back alley he found him in, but, years later, Mr. Peabody couldn't remember where it was. Sherman looked down every dark alleyway, seeing if anything struck a chord. Nothing did, of course. He started to think of what Mr. Peabody was going to do to him when he got home. Maybe, if he was good the rest of the day, he could get away with just a lecture. He didn't need that at the moment. He was busy.<p>

God, how he _hated _Penny. How could someone like her trip him up on his first day? He had always been shunned by his peers, but he wasn't even allowed one goddamn day to adjust?! He despised her. He wished she dropped dead. Hell, he had fantasies about doing it himself, but he knew he would never _do _it. Because somewhere, there was a part of Sherman that made up excuses for Penny's actions, that it was a misunderstanding, that she really was nice at heart. He didn't listen to it though.

"Why'd you lie, then?"

Thought the irrational part of him. Sherman was just confused.

"Why didn't you say, 'the bitch slammed me against a table and held me in a chokehold', and watch her cry all the way to detention?"

Sherman reasoned that, for once, it had a point.

"You don't hate her, do you?"

Sherman stopped to think over what that could mean. He ran all the way home.

* * *

><p>Sherman laid his spare glasses down on the table, and layed on top of the covers of his bed. He had tried to keep distracted for a few hours, but he was giving up. Mr. Peabody had not said a word. And neither did Sherman.<p>

"Mind if I come in?", said Mr. Peabody, breaking the silence.

"Not really."

Mr. Peabody sat on the foot of the bed.

"Be honest, why did you do it, Sherman?"

"D-do we _have_ to do this right now?"

"Yes, we do."

"What if I don't know what to tell you?"

"Then you tell me the truth."

"What if I don't know what the truth _is?"_

And, as soon as it came, the flurry of conversation ended. Mr. Peabody stood up and walked to the door.

"In that case, you tell me when you do. Get some rest."

And with the slam of the door, for the second time that day, everything faded to black.

**A/N: How was it? Better than it was in the film, I hope? If you enjoyed, or didn't, feedback is always welcomed!**


	2. The Dinner

Sherman awoke to the sound of knocking.

"Sherman, it's 2 o' clock!"

"I'm up, Mr. Peabody…"

He wiped his eyes, remembering the events of yesterday, Friday. He dreaded Monday, and every weekday after. But especially Monday. He reached for his spare glasses on his nightstand. Sherman put on a white tee-shirt, with black shorts and his white Nikes with red stripes. He never felt comfortable going barefoot, for some reason. Time flew by as Sherman thought about the mess he was in. No doubt it was in every newspaper in America. Probably on the front cover, with enhanced versions with blood and death threats. How could he defend himself when he hardly knew what happened? To Mr. Peabody, to Penny, to anyone, what was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

Sherman eventually ventured out into the kitchen to discover hours had passed, and that Mr. Peabody was preparing dinner.

"What's cooking, Mr. Peabody?"

"Oh, just some Dungeness crab with a passion-fruit basil concasse', truffled quails in a juniper-berry reduction, and, uh...baked alaska."

"Jeez, sounds complicated."

Mr. Peabody merely nodded, too focused on his cooking. Sherman walked out into the dining room.

Sherman was always compared to Mr. Peabody when it came to deduction skills. Now, he decided, would be a good time to test.

Five plates, all with fancy folded napkins and menus. Someone, rather, someone_s _were visiting, and needed to be impressed. Two for him and Mr. Peabody, Mr. Peabody at the head of the table, with Sherman to the right, as usual, but with one chair across from him. The small fork and butter knife suggested a child or daughter with an interest in vegetables rather than protein, probably someone close to Sherman's age. Two more seats sat across from each other, one with large, sharp utensils, the other with a medium sized fork and butter knife. So, husband and wife then. So a husband, wife, and child or teenage daughter were visiting, and it was crucial they make a good impression. And the only child _or_ teenage daughter he had met recently was...

This was gonna suck.

Ding! The elevator had arrived. Mr. Peabody ran in and threw off the apron he had been wearing to greet the Petersons. Paul was wearing a business suit, with a blue tie and jet black hair. Patty's clothes matched Paul's in color, but she was a lot closer to Penny in appearance, with the same blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Penny glared into Sherman, making him feel two feet tall, wearing a blue and black dress.

"Ah, the Petersons. Welcome!"

"So, he's literally a dog?", asked Paul.

"Paul!", scolded Patty.

"Oh, it's quite alright, Mrs. Peterson. Though I prefer 'literate dog'," remarked Mr. Peabody, hoping to get a chuckle and lighten the mood. Instead, he was met with a deafening nothing.

"Well, Peabody, I'll let you know I'm considering pressing charges for this. By the way, real or false teeth for him?"

Mr. Peabody stared back.

"Real, Paul. Why?"

"I wanted to know I'd be charging you with assault or aggravated assault."

"Well, tonight, the most important thing is-"

"No, the most important thing _to me_ is my daughter, and I-"

Paul's phone then began to ring.

"Yes?"

A pause.

"No, no surveys right now, call back in ten minutes."

Mr. Peabody tried to shift the conversation.

"We're glad you accepted our invitation, aren't we, Sherman?"

Sherman grunted in reply.

"_Aren't we, _Sherman?"

"Yeah, bursting through the roof…"

"Why don't you take Penny to your room? I'm sure she'll be fascinated by your mineral collection."

Sherman sighed. "Come on, then…"

"Hang on, Peabody! I don't trust her with…well, _him! _I mean, he bit her! Why do _you _trust him?", asked Paul.

"The kids can settle their differences on their own, Mr. Peterson. Besides, honesty is a key principle in this household."

* * *

><p>Sherman's room was quite large for a thirteen year old. It had shelves displaying his indeed impressive mineral collection, his bed, two desks and one rolling chair. This being said, it <em>still<em> felt too small for the two of them. Penny was sitting in the chair, texting her friends, no doubt. Sherman stood, watching his Newton's cradle display perpetual motion.

**CLICK…CLACK…CLICK…CLACK…**

"Everything going smoothly?"

Mr. Peabody had cracked open the door, his head peeking out into the room. Sherman stopped the office toy with his hands, then stomped to Mr. Peabody.

"Are you crazy?! No!"

"Why not?"

"**Why not? **She hates me!"

"Well, tell a joke, make small-talk-"

"Mr. Peabody. **I-**"

Sherman pointed towards his chest.

"**-hate-**"

He threw his hands to his sides.

"**-her!**"

He angrily pointed towards Penny. He knew this was only partially true. But it was the most believable part of him.

"Sherman, every relationship starts from a place of conflict, and evolves into something richer."

Sherman blankly stared at Mr. Peabody. _"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"_

"Make it work!" He slammed the door shut, but quickly opened it again to whisper-

"But don't tell her about the WABAC!"

**SLAM!**

Sherman tried to start a conversation, but was cut off.

"**Don't.** Even. Think about it."

Sherman wasn't about to be intimidated now, though. He had home-field advantage.

"You know, Penny..."

He moved closer to her.

"...Sigmound Freud said that..."

She rolled off to the side of him.

"...if you dislike someone..."

He moved. She rolled.

"...they remind you..."

He moved again. She tried to roll away. Sherman grabbed the chair and spun it towards him.

"...of something negative..."

She tried to quickly back away, tipping over the chair. She landed headfirst.

**BANG!**

"...about yourself."

Penny slowly got up, rubbing her head. Sherman picked up the chair and rolled it out of the way.

"What do _you_ know about Sigmound Freud?"

"More than you think."

"Yeah, right. Just like you know _all_ about the Declaration of Independence. Ugh, what a crock!"

"But it's true."

"Where **did **you get that, anyway?"

Her tone quickly shifted from sarcasm to disgust to curiosity.

"Um..."

Sherman couldn't tell her.

"Did you read it in a book?"

"No..."

"Wikipedia?"

"No..."

"Your braniac dad tell you?"

"No."

"Then how do you _know?_"

"I just...do, okay?"

"How do you know, Sherman? **How-**"

She tapped him on the chest.

"**-do-**"

Another tap, this one stronger than the last.

"**-you-**"

Tap.

"**-know?"**

She shoved him onto his desk, scattering his papers everywhere.

"Because I **saw** it!"

Sherman gasped. He didn't want to say it, it just slipped out.

"In a movie. I should've guessed."

"...No."

Sherman couldn't believe it. Again?

She huffed.

"Liar."

Sherman decided to do something he had never done in his whole life, and he didn't even know why.

"Come with me for a moment..."

He slowly opened the door and looked at her.

She bit her lip, thinking. _"Where's this sick loser gonna lead me to? Some kinda torture chamber or something?"_

"The faster you follow, the faster you get the answer. Aren't smart people curious by nature?"

_"What?! He's dissing **my **intelligence? I'll show him!"_

She quickly followed.

He snuck past the entertaining Mr. Peabody and the Petersons, to the elevator.

"Why are we here?"

"We need to go to Floor 59. I...wanna show you something."

"Let me guess: some super secret that's crazy and makes no sense."

"Yeah, and you can't tell anybody, ok? Not a word."

Penny was a little amazed her guess was right.

"Hey! **I** get to decide when I see it. Although right now I'm liking your honesty."

They walked out through an open metal doorway, walking down the hall to a bright, red door...passcode protected, of course. Sherman had memorized the passcode by now. "One-nine-six-three-pound", he mentally recited. The door hissed open, a metal walkway forming towards a dark room. Penny was having second thoughts, but her curiousity got the best of her. She was smart by nature, after all. She and Sherman walked into the darkness.

"He built it. Calls it the WABAC."

The lights snapped on, revealing the WABAC, hovering midair.

"...It flies?" "_Wow, Penny, you sound so confident in that question."_

"Well, technically yeah."

"How fast?" "_Yes, a dog invents a flying red sphere and you want to know how fast it goes. Maybe ask 0 to 60 time while you're at it!"_

"Oh, about the speed of light..."

"That's...that's impossible." _"Is my only job to state the obvious like an idiot?"_

"You know the theory of relativity, Penny?"

Penny shook her head.

"Well, it's the relation of time and speed-"

" Whoa whoa whoa...Could you put it simple?"

"Well, when your kissing a girl, a hour feels like an second. When you catch on fire, every second feels like an hour. That's relativity."

"So, it's what time feels like."

"It's what time _is._ The faster you go, the slower time around you goes. And if you go fast enough..."

Penny put the pieces together.

"You can travel through time? Like it's stopped around you and stuff?"

Sherman nodded as the two walked closer to the machine.

"Where have you gone in it?"

"The _w__hen_ is more important."

"Okay, smart guy, when?"

"Oh, 1215, 1492, 1781, 1620, 4."

She stared it, wondering if she was even awake.

"Can it go back to, say, an hour ago?"

"It...could. Why?"

"Then I could fake being sick and not have to see your face again."

"Ha ha. Mr. Peabody says it's not a good idea to travel through time to a period where you exist."

"Oh, yeah? Why?"

"Cause there'd be two of you."

"Oh. Right. Guess the world's not ready for that. Clearly, it's _hardly _ready for you!"

"You know what, I'm regretting showing you this already, so let's just go back-"

At this point, the door automatically opened for the two.

"Why? There is a time machine right in front of us, Sherman! Can I at least see it work?"

"Mr. Peabody says-"

"Oh, forget Mr. Peabody! If he jumped off a cliff, would you jump next?"

"-that you should never travel unsupervised."

"I wouldn't be unsupervised, Sherman. I'd have you showing me the way the whole time. You _are _super-smart, right?"

"Um...I think so..."

"So prove it."

Penny skipped into the WABAC.

_...What could one little trip hurt, anyway?_

Sherman stepped in.


	3. The Proof

"So it seats four, huh?"

The interior of the WABAC was very much like the set of a high-budget sci-fi movie, with chairs built into the floor that swiveled on a track in a target style (outer ring, then another inside, then another, etc.). It was full of complex computers and hardware that looked rather inviting to Sherman, but very much the opposite to Penny.

"Mr. Peabody has a habit of planning ahead."

Penny sat down while Sherman tried his best to set the computers.

"This might take a while. It's my first time driving," he joked.

"We have plenty of time."

It certainly did take a few minutes. The trickiest part was the four didgit passcode. Sherman tried his birthday, Mr. Peabody's birthday, Father's Day, none of them worked. Eventually, he figured it out, as it was the same as the door's passcode. The process that took Mr. Peabody mere seconds took Sherman about three minutes. The machine started to whir to life and vibrate. And then Sherman was thrown into the back of his seat.

It wasn't an explosion, or anything of that nature, it was more like a bus coming to a sudden stop. If you were prepared for it, and reasonably strong willed, you could stay planted to the ground and not move an inch. But for Sherman, it still was a kick. The machine quickly stopped vibrating.

"So that's what it feels like?"

"Pretty much."

Sherman slowly got up and walked towards the door.

"Well? Aren't you coming?"

Penny got up and followed.

The machine took a minute to scan the pair's clothes, and to alter them. Sherman's T-shirt and shorts transformed into a white undershirt with a navy blue overcoat, with all the trimmings of 18th century duds, while Penny had a silky purple dress. The door hissed open, towards the south facade of Independence Hall. Horses surrounded the building, wondering when their riders would return, and what they were doing. Penny was speechless, but for Sherman, this was nothing too out of the ordinary. Penny quickly ran for the door.

"Penny, wait! Are you crazy?"

"What?"

"They are holding a top secret meeting in there, you know. Just establishing America's independence from Great Britain, nothing special."

Penny knocked on the door.

"And you just disturbed the most important group of people in history. Wonderful. Could **I **handle it from here, please?"

The door swung open, revealing a man in his late thirties (alarmlingly close to forty, actually), looking very angry.

"No one disturbs the meet- are you Sherman Peabody?" He was now more puzzled than anything.

"Yes indeed, Mr. Carroll."

Now it was Penny's turn to look confused. _"Who?"_

"Washington's talked about you. Who's your girlfriend?"

"He is **not** my boyfriend!" Penny huffed angrily.

"We're more acquaintances, to be honest."

"I see. And where's your father?"

Sherman froze. He didn't know if he could lie to a Founding Father.

"Uh...he's busy. Running errands. Yeah, you know how he is..."

He made a vague gesture with his hands.

"No I don't, actually."

Sherman gulped.

"Still, you may enter."

The two went in, and noticed the sweltering heat.

"Little warm in here," said Penny.

"They nailed all the windows shut so no one can listen in."

They were led to the assembly hall, crowded with fifty six members of the Second Continental Congress. The head of the congress, Washington, spoke up.

"The Congress welcomes Sherman Peabody and his guest to the floor."

A light smattering of applause followed.

"You two may make yourselves comfortable, as I believe we have a few empty seats today."

The two sat down.

"So, now the important matter of business- the signing of this crucial document. Gentlemen, if we lose this battle, and our names our found on this Declaration...God help us."

John Hancock walked up to Washington- rather, to the Declaration in front of him, and signed it in large, bold letters.

"It's a risk we must take. There! I think King George will be able to see that without his glasses."

A few chuckles rang out. More delegates rose to sign the document. Both Penny and Sherman glanced at each other. Both of them were amazed. They were seeing the signing of the most important document in American History, and they hadn't even had dinner.

"Proof enough yet?" whispered Sherman. Penny nodded. Sherman led her out of the Hall and back to the WABAC. She wanted to see more, but she couldn't handle the heat for much longer.

"So Sherman, can we do that again? Somewhere more comfy, hopefully?"

"Well, I don't know, I already showed it to you _and_ took you back to 1776."

"Oh, come on. Please?"

At this point, why even bother?

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"When I was little, I was really into Egyptians. King Tut and all them."

"Can do."

Sherman picked 1328 B.C., simply because it stuck out to him. He always remebered odd little numbers like that, and four, and twenty eight, and pi.

They arrived. Penny got up to leave, Sherman right behind.

Quickly, their clothes turned into soft white garments, that provided little heat but adequate protection.

"So," said Sherman, stepping out into the featureless desert, "why did this interest you so much?"

"Mostly?"

"Yeah?"

"To screw you over!" She kicked up a pile of dust, and vanished out into the Sahara.

"Penny! What the..." By the time Sherman had took off, it was too late to find her, let alone catch her.

Great. Now what?


	4. The Visit

Sherman had remembered back when he was five. He became fascinated with the concept of time travel- read every book, saw every movie. There were theories about it that his experience had proved false, such as:

Time travel is impossible.

If time travel were possible, it would be impossible to alter the timeline in any way.

Traveling to the past is impossible.

Time travel would result in the end of the world.

And etcetera, but now he pondered about one of the more popular theories: time travel is far too dangerous for man to have. Man had always felt the need to control their environments. Now, man controlled time and man controlled space. What was left to conquer?

As he setup the controls for his journey back home, part of him thought, "Control over Penny Peterson," which, he admitted, would be nice. Like, right now, for instance. He now had to go back to Mr. Peabody's dinner. Alone. And explain how he had broken the most important rules his father had given him, and try to convince him to go on a rescue mission for a girl that could care less about if Sherman lived or died. Even so, he remained equal parts optimistic and realistic. People fear what they don't understand. Maybe Penny just didn't...couldn't understand yet, and later...

No, she just hated him.

When he arrived, back he was supposed to be, he could tell something had changed. When he and Penny snuck down, the penthouse was quiet. But now, it was brought to life with cheerful small talk. Mr. Peabody's famous brand of entertainment always defused the mood, even when your children hate each other to the point of violence.

"More drinks, Pea-buddy!"

Sherman almost gave himself away, trying desperately not to laugh. Pea-buddy?! Oh, if Mr. Peabody didn't kill him, he'd never live that down.

Regaining his composure, he peeked around the corner. "Wait," he thought, "couldn't I rescue Penny on my own and get away without punishment?"

Too late, unfortunately, did these thoughts come, for he had already said, "Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

Crap. "Can we talk for a sec?"

"Sure."

Mr. Peabody walked around to meet Sherman out of sight of the Petersons.

"Is there a problem? Where's Penny?"

"That's the thing, see..."

"You didn't."

"She's kinda in ancient Egypt."

"You did! You took the WABAC for a joy ride?! And lost the only person who would be impressed by your little rebellion?!"

"Hey! It's not like I lost her; she ran off by herself."

"Then you shouldn't be worried, should you? You should be in ancient Egypt, looking for her yourself, while I do what I have to. If you want to find her, find her yourself, because frankly I cannot clean up your mess right now! I'm very busy!"

"Hey, where's the drinks?"

"Mr. Peabody, did you say something about Penny?"

Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. Were right. Behind. Them.

"Yeah, where's my daughter?"

Thinking quickly, Mr. Peabody said, "In Sherman's room."

But Sherman answered split-seconds later, "The bathroom."

Mr. Peabody said, "Oh, bathroom, sorry."

While Sherman said, "My room."

"Your lying, aren't you?"

Mr. Peabody knew then that he had no choice.

* * *

><p>"So, what did you do to them?"<p>

The mood in the WABCAC was frosty, considering the temperature of where they were headed.

"Ancient technique. Should hold them for ten, twenty minutes. More than enough time to lay down the rules for you, Sherman. I don't think I need to tell you I'm very disappointed in you."

Sherman stayed silent. He knew that, of course, but... it was too hard to explain. Everytime he and Penny were around each other he always felt like he was a pawn. His common sense vanished and taking it's place was unending optimism. Indeed, multiple times his I.Q. seemed to plummet around Penny. He wasn't sure whether this was positive or negative, probably the latter, but it assuredly wasn't natural.

They walked out into the desert, looking for anything other than a dune.

"So what do we look for? It's not like there's buildings or anything as a marker. Nope, just sand, sand, and more sand."

"You'd be surprised."

Mr. Peabody took off in a certain direction, how he got it, Sherman had no idea, cause it was an equal crapshoot whether or not if you were gonna find anything. Or so it seemed, because they were actually within walking distance of Thebes. Sherman followed after his father for a time, to find a white, marble building standing defiantly against the desert.

"Huh. You were right."

"Am I ever wrong, Sherman?"

* * *

><p>King Tut was well pleased.<p>

Even before all that had happened, he had awoken to another day of ruling this caliphate. It was, he supposed, good to be king, although having your father to die first usually makes your newfound power bittersweet.

It did not for Him, son of Akhenaten. That wasn't his father's real name, he had changed it to honor, in his delusional mind, the chief sun god, to which there was no equal. Tutenkhamen took his rule as a personal challenge to prove that the apple had fallen a measure away from the tree. Of course, his life of prosperity could not have been within reach if not for Ay. Ay was a valuable counsel, a priceless asset, and a less insane father figure.

While thinking of this, he was disrupted.

"Great job, Penelope. Abandon your ride through time and space and stick yourself here. Really thought this one out...maybe this building has something to help me."

A girl who could have been no older than 15 was wandering in the desert - no, HIS desert. She had the fairest of skin, wheat-blonde hair that flowed effortlessly, and beautiful blue eyes lost in thought.

"What are you doing here, miss?", he asked at the passerby.

Penny turned her head to see a boy, bald but somewhat handsome.

"Excuse me?", she inquired, with a tone that screamed "Who are you and why do you care?" That would not stand against the King.

"Why are you trekking through my desert?"

"Your desert? Who are you?"

"You do not recognize the face of the King?", he asked, puzzled.

"Uh...no?"

The King merely sighed.

"Very well. I am Tuthenkhamen, son of Akhenaten, and ruler of the kingdom. Now, once again, I command you, why are you here?"

Penny's eyes lit up. Tutenkhamen. Tut. She was speaking with King Tut.

"Well...I'm kinda lost. Really, it's a miracle I found this place. I've been walking for a little while now, and the burning sand doesn't feel great, if I'm honest..."

The King stood in thought. "Hm. Lost. I will have to speak with Ay later. Set up some kind of navigation system. Paths that spread throughout the land." However, he did not believe she was lost at all. No, surely such beauty must have been sent by the gods, to be his muse and Queen. For this, he was eternally grateful.

"Well, I believe here is a place to rest on your mission, daughter of Hathor. We can meet your every desire."

Penny didn't know what the "daughter of Hathor" business meant, but figured it was wise to take any port in the proverbial storm.

* * *

><p>Sherman cautiously walked up the steps.<p>

Penny caught the glint of glass lenses and the now dusty red hair.

"S-Sherman! What are you doing here?"

"We've come to take you home," Mr. Peabody spoke up.

"Ugh! How do you say 'snitch' in Egyptian?"

"Do you know these two?", asked Tut.

"As if," replied Penny.

"Then what is their business here?"

"I'm afraid she has to come with us," explained Mr. Peabody.

"Whatever for? She's home."

"Who are you again?"

All eyes turned toward the once-quiet Sherman.

"Two in one day. Unbelievable. Tell me, simpleton, who do you _think _I am?"

"How should I know?"

"Your insolence will not stand much longer," Tut fired back, in what he assumed was a threatening tone.

"Sorry, master," Sherman sniped back.

"Sherman!", Mr. Peabody scolded.

"**Hey! **Can _I _get a word in?"

"My apologies, fair lady. You may speak to Seth and his company."

Sherman ignored the quiet jab at his name.

"Look, really thoughtful and all to come back, but how about you wait on me till I'm done? Be an obedient son and wait your turn?"

Sherman flinched at the mention of "obedient son", but said nothing.

"You may speak to her after the ceremony."

"What ceremony?", asked Sherman, visibly confused.

"Me and my boyfriend Tut here are getting married."

"Like hell you are, little Ms. Runaway!", exclaimed Sherman.

"Depart!" Tut reached to grab a dagger with a twisted blade and a jeweled handle. "Or I shall have to use force."

Sherman pounded his fist into the arm, sending the dagger floating through the air. Sherman caught it and slashed it across the air. A thin line of red began to run across the King's chin.

"...Fine. Take her and leave."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey! Quick notes here. I did some research about Ancient Egypt here and I hope some of it shows. This chapter is really where canon starts becoming less and less important. I simply could not a way to write the scene where Peabody and Sherman were trapped, so I just cut it altogether. Tut became a one-scene wonder, and Ay is only referenced. If you want, feel free to look up Seth and Hathor to get the context. Also, while your at it, consider leaving a review! It sounds egotistical, but reviews are great motivation. <strong>


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